


Lights Out

by ScribbleScribe (Sauny)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Mentioned Character Death, Nightmares, can be read as platonic, character only dies in nightmare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-23
Updated: 2016-08-23
Packaged: 2018-08-10 13:45:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7847362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sauny/pseuds/ScribbleScribe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: "i know its a little cliche but! what if junkrat had a nightmare"</p><p>---</p><p>tumblr: http://scribblewrites.tumblr.com/post/148595968244/i-know-its-a-little-cliche-but-what-if-junkrat</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lights Out

On good nights, he dreams of nothing. They were wastes of time, emptiness that could be replaced by useful tinkering or planning for their next big heist. He only sleeps because his body demands it and, more recently, Roadhog demands it.

The day had been long, and terrible. His bombs hadn’t worked how he’d wanted them too, they’d been made in a rush after all, and they’d blown a moment later than they should have. Roadhog had swatted the back of his head once they’d been a safe distance from the freshly destroyed bank. It hadn’t been his fault, he’d grumbled, it wasn’t like he’d had a lot of choice.

Roadhog pulled up to the shell of a gas station, hiding his bike and the sidecar in the car wash that had been built beside the pumps. He didn’t say anything when Junkrat passed him and started searching the store for any scrap, the smaller Junker felt the glare he was receiving anyway and made sure to throw at least one empty tin can in his bodyguard’s direction.

“S’nothing here,” He climbed back out and got the same response from ‘Hog, the big man apparently attempting to find any petrol in the pumps and coming up empty, “Reckon they’ll find us?”

Roadhog shook his head and Junkrat grumbled.

The moon passed overhead as the night went on, Junkrat left to his own devices as Roadhog rested beside his bike. He’d convinced the bigger man that he was safer in there with all their equipment, and Junkrat himself was better off outside where he could see up and down the road. He was half scrap anyway, he’d argued, even if someone came by he’d probably be confused for some garbage if he laid still enough. Roadhog hadn’t bothered arguing back, walking to the hiding spot without a word, and left Junkrat to further tear apart the insides of the little road-side store.

He was only disturbed from his endeavour to further ruin the place when a large hand settled on his shoulder, pulling him out of the half-trance he’d been in while dismantling one of the stands.

“I’m fine,” he looked up at Roadhog, knowing what kind of look he was getting, “Go back to sleep, I’ve got it.”

The grip on his shoulder tightened, and he couldn’t do much when Roadhog had his mind set on something. He complained as he was picked up and brought back to the safety of the car wash and dumped in the side car, his hip bruising as he hit the car at a weird angle.

Roadhog rumbled, apologetic, and Junkrat waved him off and curled up with his back to the bigger junker.

The day had been horrible, and the night had been too. When he finally passed out the trend continued, his dreamscape not a familiar darkness but instead taking the form of the bank they’d just robbed.  He couldn’t control himself, and he feels his laughter ricochet around the marble room they’d dropped into. He’d set up his charges around the building so they could make a clean getaway, actually making an effort to check it with ‘Hog’s second opinion, it was a big heist and there was no way he was going to fuck it up with a misplaced bomb.

He knew there was something wrong, it was an edited memory, and he knew that the problem was with the bombs. He’d made them too quickly, had forgotten he’d done a rush job, and he watched his fingers reach for the trigger even though he knew. He looked up, watching Roadhog turn and smile at him. The gears in his brain don’t click and realise his bodyguard is maskless until the world exploded. He panicked, it’s too early, he hadn’t even hit the button yet. The world exploded and the smile he’d just been staring at is wiped from existence. He watched the fire and shrapnel consume him, all the pain from being in the blast instead turning into an ache deep inside him.

He woke without a noise.

He took a moment to breathe, muttering a curse as he wiped away tears.

The world wasn’t burning, and it’s surprising how relieving that is. He sat up and dragged his flesh hand across his face until the clear tracks down his cheeks were dirtied. His prosthetic was beside him, cleaned and repaired with a small pig sticker on the strap.

He left it there, instead turning to look at his bodyguard.

“Arm was bruised,” Roadhog shrugged, a hand still rubbing down his gun with a rag, “Didn’t want it getting worse.”

“Thanks,” He pulled himself out of the car, moving to sit beside ‘Hog. The bigger junker tensed only for a moment, before resuming with his cleaning job.

The moon was near the horizon, the sky still dark enough for stars but not for sleep. Neither of them said anything, even when the stars disappeared and the sun started rising. Junkrat settled closer to Roadhog, looping his flesh hand through the gap between ‘Hog’s arm and his side.

“Hey, Hog?” He turned his head, looking up at the gasmask, “You smile at all?”

Roadhog stopped what he was doing, thinking for a moment, before he nodded.

“Good, okay,” He closed his eyes, far from sleep but tired nonetheless, “Keep that safe for me, okay?”

Roadhog grunted, a good sign, and didn’t ask Junkrat anything about it. The smaller junker giggled quietly, trusting ‘Hog to keep watch for just a few more hours.


End file.
